


I'd Hate to Ruin It

by Ghostinthehouse



Series: Demon and Angel Professors [49]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, Disabled Crowley (Good Omens), Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Other, Ze/Zir Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-20 22:47:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22550947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostinthehouse/pseuds/Ghostinthehouse
Summary: "Crowley!" Beelzebub's voice sliced through the noise of the students leaving. "A word, if you please."
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Warlock Dowling, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens), Crowley & Warlock Dowling
Series: Demon and Angel Professors [49]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1412962
Comments: 34
Kudos: 1169
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens





	I'd Hate to Ruin It

"Crowley!" Beelzebub's voice sliced through the noise of the students leaving. "A word, if you please."

Crowley waited for the last of his class to file out, and then raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement. "Professor." He stayed in his teaching chair, yielding zem the height advantage.

Beelzebub closed the door, shutting them into the room alone, and advanced on him, fists clenched at zir sides. "Tell, iz thiz rumour your doing?"

Crowley curled his lip, snorted in response and politely waved a hand to offer zem a seat. "The one about Gabriel? Hardly. The students came up with it all on their own."

Ze remained standing, not quite looming over him, but coming close to it. "What exactly did you do, Crowley? I want answerz."

Crowley tipped his head up to make it clear he was looking at zem, and shrugged a carefully casual shoulder. "They may have heard me call my husband an angel. Which he is, you know that. No names were involved."

"That'z all?"

"Yep." He popped the p. "I promise you, I'm not responsible for every rumour in this place."

"No," ze said dryly. "Only most of them. I expect you to clear thiz up, understand?"

"Perfectly."

Beelzebub turned and stalked out.

Crowley eyed the door as it closed behind zem, and added softly, "But I'll do it in my own way."

His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out. Warlock. "Yeah?"

"Professor Fly told Professor Gabriel about the rumours...neither of them are pleased."

"I know," Crowley sighed. "I just had a very - interesting - conversation with Professor Fly. Wanted me to fix the rumour-mill, like that's even possible."

"Oh." Warlock's voice went even softer, almost apologetic. "I wanted to warn you. I guess it's too late."

"Appreciate the thought," Crowley said, letting his head sag onto the back of the chair and shifting his legs to ease them. "Anything else?"

"Uh, well, yeah. Professor Gabriel said he was going to have _words_ with Dr Fell - and now I can't get hold of him. His phone's off."

Crowley closed his eyes for a long moment and bit back a groan. Blast Gabriel. Just as the rumours were getting fun, as well. "He often has his phone off during the day. Leave it to me."

"Ok," Warlock replied, sounding relieved. "And thanks." They hung up before Crowley could even splutter over being thanked.

Crowley fished out a water bottle and took a long swallow as he thought. Rumours were a Lernaean Hydra. If you just tried to cut the rumour off, it came back twice as loud and twice as strong. You had to be careful, to work around it. Not to try to silence a rumour, but rather to direct the rumour-mongering. Want one rumour to (mostly) go away? Then you had to feed the rumour-mill something else. Give them something juicier to talk about, and the old rumours would die away on their own. More or less. That was something he understood from long experience, but apparently neither Gabriel nor Beelzebub really grasped the problems inherent in "just" trying to "clear it up" .

So, what could they offer the rumour-mill that would set it buzzing more than the wildfire spread of the rumour about him and Gabriel. He kneaded his leg absently, and then sighed, running through Aziraphale's schedule in his head and trying to work out where his husband was most likely to be right now.

Because as sure as Hell is full of demons, Gabriel wouldn't have any concerns about just cornering Aziraphale in a corridor somewhere and going all sneerish at him. And Crowley didn't see any way that Aziraphale wouldn't come out of that confrontation without mental and emotional wounds. Gabfest Gabriel, "Shut your mouth" Gabriel, was an old hand at causing them. If practice made perfect (or at least better) then Gabriel had had a great deal of practice, and Aziraphale did not, not ever, deserve to have Gabriel sharpen his words on him yet again.


End file.
